


the devil's on the loose

by bloodsparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean in Hell, Episode: s03e04 Sin City, Gen, Hell Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsparks/pseuds/bloodsparks
Summary: While in Hell, Dean remembers a conversation with a certain demon.





	the devil's on the loose

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'run through the jungle' by credence clearwater revival

_"Your kind is corrupt, Dean. Weak. Our will is stronger. That's why we'll win."_

Dean remembers Casey's words. The smile on her face. At the time, he'd called bullshit on her confidence. Told himself it was her trying to weaken his spirit, make him give up before Sam could reach him. Can't win the war without losing your own battles. 

But now, after years and years in the Pit, day in and day out with blood and screams all around, Dean understood. He'd been so strong at first. Held it together and dealt with the unbearable pain. They'd carved and torn, mocked and jeered. He'd been taken apart more times than he could count, and anything softer than a blood-curdling scream was unheard of. 

The human soul was strong, but the charred, twisted form of a demon's was stronger. Dean had seen it: the transformation of someone on the rack when they accepted the blade and turned on their own. White became stained red, which became deep crimson, which turned obsidian the longer they kept it up. And the torture didn't end once you went dark side, Dean learned. It just eased up, went from physical to psychological to physical again. But it didn't hurt as much. How could it, when soft flesh turned to stretched rubber and calloused scales? 

_"And that's how it ends?"_

Dean gives in on the second day of the thirtieth year. He's guilt-ridden at first, holding the blade like it's infected with something awful. He cuts where it doesn't hurt, leaving shallow marks and grateful screamers. It earns him another year on the rack, and when he gets off again, he's determined not to make the same mistake. He slashes, burns, desecrates. Anything to keep from being thrust back into the mercy of those crueler than him.

_"No. That's how it begins."_

When he picks up the knife this time, he doesn't put it down. 

 


End file.
